


The Obsession

by MsTerror



Series: The Ghost In The Window (Ghostface 'Danny Johnson' x reader [2]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Choking, F/M, Kinktober 2020, Porn, Porn With Plot, Riding, Shame, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27373816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsTerror/pseuds/MsTerror
Summary: Ghostface 《Danny Johnson》x reader(Pt. 2)Prompt: Choking/spanking/thigh riding___You meet Ghostface once again. However, this time he does not let you go.___Part of a series that is connected.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Reader, Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/You
Series: The Ghost In The Window (Ghostface 'Danny Johnson' x reader [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999510
Comments: 4
Kudos: 74





	The Obsession

The Entity's realm was an unforgiving place filled with many means of torture. So it didn't come to a surprise to Ghostface when his recent play thing wasn't put into his trails. Not like he thirsted over any survivor before, not in a way he does for her, not all carnal violence. He wouldn't mind slicing her throat as he was cock deep in her dripping cunt, fucking every last dying breath from of her. When he wasn't in a trail, he'd creep through the forest where he was dumped in. He didn't have his own little paradise after all, not like the other killers do. And in that time he would search -- endlessly -- trying to find the survivors campsite. He was hell-bent on finding her, his obsession. 

  
He was being punished for letting her go free. The entity wasn't happy about that little part. So, he wasn't allowed near her. Its been over a dozen trails and still no sign of ever letting her back in any of his games. It was like she never existed. He was beginning to get pissed off about that.

However, when he saw that glorious flickering of fire, tongues of red and orange licking across the ground and forestland -- hope filled him. He crept up behind the trees and stayed hidden, cloaked amongst the pitch black. When he peered from cover it was, in fact, the survivors campsite. There were only seven survivors. Most sat on logs while the old army man he killed in front of the woman stood over the fire. He was buzzing with excitement. He couldn't wait to see her.

But there was no sign of his plaything. She wasn't there. He even patrolled around the area, but the woman never made herself known. She was either in a trail, or placed in a different campsite.

He never did get to find out before he was sucked into another trail.  
__

Strained eyes fluttered open, only to be met with a blackened sky and an even darker path ahead of her. Despite the shroud, the woman knew exactly where she was -- in another damn trail -- placed in the Trappers aboad. Even though it was the Trappers territory that doesn't mean it's him that is the killer. It could be the Doctor for all she knew. She really hoped that wasn't the case. The blistering electricity that fried her brain (to which madness would follow) and boiled her insides into a liquidy soup. That kind of suffering lasted through out the entirety of the trail, and even followed into the safe haven if any survivor manages to escape. Stab wounds, scrapes, anything that happened stuck with you in victory. But was it truly worth it? Was it really a win to still represent the pain and suffering? She didn't exactly think so, but it was better then loosing bits and pieces of yourself everytime you're sacrificed on the hook.

She was still new. She didn't know some of the ropes all too well just yet. She could fix a generator, but only with the help of others. She was rather proficient at loosing the killer -- as long as she knew the landscape. She could sneak out of any situation just about. She was quick on her light feet.

Yet, there was one thing she had yet to experience. She had been warned of the symptoms beforehand for repercussion, of course. The molting flash of searing pain struck every nerve in her body, every cell buzzed in her form, ready to activate and self destruct. Muscles constricted, a headache flicked at her concentration and plucked out her focus. The sudden jolt of everything all at once made her slouch against near by brick ruin.

She was the obsession.

The pain soon simmered down, but left a stuffy sensation in her skull. One of the other survivors, Claudette, was there to snap her back into the entity's reality.

"You okay?" she asked.

The woman shoved herself off the brick ruin. "Yeah, just my first experience at being the obsession. "

"Do you know who the killer could be?"

She mulled over it a bit, but her mind stayed blank. "I'm not sure. I don't remember purposely pissing off the Shape or anything. How do you even become an obsession?"

"By getting on the killer's bad side -- specifically their bad _bad_ side. Some do it for entertainment, though. Yet that's rarely. The pain is also a measurement of the percentage of their root obsession. If it wasn't any indication of how you almost passed out just a few moments earlier, I would say by observation that this killer as a strong obsessive nature towards you."

She thought over what Claudette had said. She truly didn't know who it could be but she knew that the answer wouldn't be too far around the corner.

A scream went off in the distance. Someone was hooked. That was quick.

 _It's now or never_ , she thought before rushing towards the hooked survivor cross the estate.  
__  
She had helped Nea off the hook before bandaging her wounds and moving on to a generator. Nea, of course, ran off to fix a different one. _More ground covered_ , she said. _Ground cover my ass._

So, there she was, once again left alone in yet another trail. Being ditched felt like a second home to her now.

She didn't see the figure in the darkness, but it definitely saw her. Ghostface was absolutely exhilarated. That memory of her mouth wrapped around his length played for the millionth time in his head. He wanted more from her. He made himself known.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't my lovely little helper. How you've been, sweetheart?"

She shrieked, flinging herself across the room. Ghostface didn't like that one bit (he did find it extremely amusing though) and before she could run out the door way, he grabbed her by her hair. She was harshly yanked back, crashing against the killers chest. She thrashed around, trying to excape his iron grasp. Instead, his gloved hand snaked around -- leather covered fingers constricted around her throat. Pain shot through her spine; her throat compressed, short gasp wheezed past her lips, and she couldn't breath. She was now pressed against the cold wall with a hand around her throat.

"That was very rude of you," he jabbed. Fingers flexed against her throat. "I did not like that stunt one bit."

Words didn't meet her lips, and oxygen wasn't entering her lungs. No matter how hard she tried to pry the cold hand away -- it stayed like he was super glued to her flesh. Dark edges crept in her vision that threatened to swallow her whole. Her legs became wobbly, and with that, her movements slowed down due to the lack of oxygen to the brain.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you quite well." He didn't stop there. "Something got your tongue?"

Merciful, he released his hold by a little.

She wheezed and gasped for air, her throat severally sore. Her lungs burned no matter how many gulps of oxygen she breathed in. The feeling of bruised flesh collected under the pads of his fingers. She would have a bruise in the shape of a hand on her throat.

"Now, what was that?"

"I don't--" she coughed. "I don't give a shit."

He hummed. "You should. It's a matter of life or death here, sweetheart. But perhaps not for you, not yet. Unless you'd like me to kill you... then I will gladly do so."

"No," she said. "No deal."

"Let me rephrase that for you. You understand how this game works. You know the consequences, the suffering. I'm offering you entity passes. I'm letting you walk away -- free. You will win the game in the end. Yet you deny all this... And reject my help."

"No. Final."

"I see," he said. His body language told he wasn't convinced, and the blade didn't make contact with her just yet. "Since this is our second time in a trail, I'll let you think it over. Next time you will not be so lucky."

__

(Y/n) heard there was a book of some sorts that had the killer's personal information locked inside. She didn't know where it was kept. She probably should have just asked, but she was too preoccupied with trail after trail that she didn't have the chance to find out. However, she didn't need the book. She just needed a little more info on the killer that's personally after her.

"So, what do you know about ghostface?"

Meg gave her a side ways glance. "Why are you asking?"

She swallowed down the nervous lump in her throat. "I'm just curious. He was my first killer."

"Danny Johnson is his real name. Used to be a reporter and write news articles under the name Jed Olsen. This bastard created his own stories, killing people and writing about it. The Ghostface was his stage name. There's not much else known. All that information was in a book Ash found in a cabin off in the woods. It's some kind of log."

She stayed silent.

"You good?"

"Yeah," she quickly replied. "Yeah I'm fine."

There was silence. Meg spoke once again

"I heard you're the obsession. What'd you do to get Ghostface after you. Hell -- I guess you don't need a reason when it comes to that maniac."

"I don't know." She knew exactly why, but she wasn't about to reveal that dirty little secret anytime soon. "Perhaps because I'm the new girl."

Meg snorted. "Yeah, that sounds like Ghostface logic."

The only noise that filled the silence was the buzz of a gen they were working on. (Y/n) was relieved that someone with more experience was there to help fix the machinery. More times then one she blew a gen dead before. Those incidents left a permanent imprint in her head, replaying the message that she was more of a burden then an asset. The others had said it was because she was new, but she knew her abilities were below average compared to the other survivors. Yeah, she was good at sneaking, but survival in the entity's realm required a little more then that.

Sparks coughed in her face, heat kissed her red skin, and she fell back away from the hot electricity that bite at her flesh.

You didn't have to tell Meg even once before she bolted away from the exposed generator.

_Well, thanks alot Meg_ _. Great teamwork. Run off like a little bitch and leave me here._

She knew it was her fault, but she couldn't help but feel salty at being left behind.

It didn't take her long after to flee the area. But she saw the shift of something in the distance right before she left. Ghostface already saw her. He was gaining up on her too quick for comfort.

She didn't dare look back, that would only slow her down. She looped him into a building without thinking. She tried to hide behind collected junk, but Ghostface was sneakier. He knew exactly where she was before she did herself.

She felt arms snake around her midsection and yanked her harshly from the window she was about to jump out of. She crashed against his chest. His arms constricted -- squeezing her insides in the process-- and was completely immobilized. Struggling proved useless compared to his inhuman strength gifted by the entity.

"Have you made your choice yet?"

She heaved and still tried to break free. "It's still a no."

"You know what that means, right?" He tsked. His voice was below a whisper, mask pressed against her ear where his mouth would be. "I'm disappointed in you. Now I'm gonna have to kill you." She didn't want to be sliced up again.

"Don't do this, Danny." She blurted.

His grip became stronger. "How do you know that name?"

"A little-" she gasped for air. "A little bird told me."

"Well, sweetheart. There is no more Danny, only the Ghostface."

"Danny is Ghostface," she said. "And you are both." There was a long silence.

"I suppose that makes us on first name bases then."

He pinned her to the cold wooden wall. Her face pressed against old, yellow wall paper speckled in black mold. Her arms strained as they were pulled behind her back. Warmth seeped away from Ghostface from his close proximity, licking her back. He didn't press himself into her. Yet, she knew exactly what he wanted from her.

"I may be a cold blooded killer, but I am not a rapist. I give you two choices: life or death. A never ending cycle of being slaughtered -- torn to shreds by the fun little entity in the sky. You chose that route... You chose to die."

"You don't mean it."

"What was that?"

"You're just miniplulating me. You'll kill me afterwards once you get bored."

"I kept my end of the deal last time. What makes you think I will not at this moment?"

"Like you said. You're a cold blooded killer. Cold blooded killers don't have honor and certainly don't know mercy."

He chuckled. "You have a smart head on those shoulders. However, there _is_ a difference. I find our deal a simple trade of acts. I'm usually a man of my word, and most often then not what I say is 'law'. I wouldn't be offering this trade otherwise."

"That's basically... prostitution."

"That depends on the manner of which you look at this delicate situation. Is the glass half empty, or perhaps half full -- the choice is yours."

A generator popped to life off in the distance.

"You're wasting time talking to me," she said. "The others are fixing gens."

"Correction, _one_ person is fixing generators. There's only two of you little piggy's left. And as we speak, they are bleeding to death. I have all the time in the world."

A hand ran down her side and felt up her curves. Fingers slide under her soiled shirt -- her heart beat quickened as his thumb run along the bottom of her bra, testing. She didn't make no protest as his hand engulfed one of her covered breast and squeezed. She didn't know what to feel when he began kneading the flesh, nipples hardened and scratched against her bra uncomfortably.

Heavy breathing could be heard behind the mask -- grated and aroused.

His voice was low, dripping the arousal. "You're into this, aren't you? You like being dominated. You enjoy being taken over." He pressed against her backside. "My dirty little _slut_."

Something hard pressed firmly against her ass. She remembered the shape of his cock perfectly, and imagined what it would be like deep inside her cunt. She could practically feel the bruising grip on her hips as he'd plunge inside, fast and hard. Feel his balls smack against her ass, leather chafteing her skin raw. She could puke.

She didn't know where these thoughts were coming from. She felt disgusted at the fire that burned in her core, a twisted heat leaked from its confines. She definitely didn't want to hear his dark voice speak dirty to her. She definitely didn't want this.

The moisture she felt down below better be pee.

His chest rumbled, and then he chuckled. "Its both amusing and cute that you don't see it." There was a pause. Maybe she'll figure it out on her own? "You have a little of what's in me."

"And what's that."

"Oh, you know. A little bit of this and a little bit that... A pinch of that twisted, delicious darkness that you can't seem to understand. I'll make you see it, just you wait."

That was a promise, she knew.

Danny Johnson was a patient man, but when it came to this, at that exact moment, the thought of another minute passing drove him nuts. She didn't say no, if anything her body said yes for this to happen. If she chose to back out he'd simply end the affair -- with a knife in her back. He wouldn't continue, he'd just kill her.

"You gonna go through with this?" that was the last time he'd ask. She nodded.

She would rather go through with this, a situation she could get pleasure from, then to be sliced up and strung on a meat hook.

A gloved hand trailed down her stomach and reached for the waistband of her shorts. The shorts were then tugged down to her knees. The hand holding her arms back guilded her hands to the wall.

"Don't move these," he ordered. She obeyed.

Before she knew it, her shorts and undergarments were tugged off and flung across the room. She could sense the buzz of impatience wafting off of Ghostface, but he kept his composure. There's no telling how long afterwards he'd be away from her.

A dull sting spread over the left side of her ass cheek, and she hissed. He just spanked her.

Ghostface hummed, pleased.

He shifted her feet apart for better access, a knee planted between her thighs. Thick black leather rubbed against her sensitive flesh and triggered her swollen clit. His knee rubbed circles into her center. Her fluids collected on his pants -- shiny and sticky. She subconsciously chased that high, grinding down on his thigh. The man's heavy breathing sounded erotic, fueled with pure arousal.

His knee pressed painfully into her cunt, but she absolutely enjoyed it. 

It was short lived however, and he pulled away from her.

Instead, he reached down and cupped her cunt. He wanted to feel her up, ingrain every detail of her for later use when he's alone. He had masturbated to the feeling of her mouth around his cock. Now he was about to fuck her completely. He needed pictures. He didn't need to leave it up to memory and imagination. So that's what he did -- he pulled out his camera and stepped back.

(Y/n) first felt the cold air, and then saw the flash of light as he snapped a picture. One picture turned into a series of more flashes, and being his hand pulling her head back to face the camera. She really didn't want to question this because she already knew, but she had one condition.

"Do not show this to any of your killer friends."

"Are you sure, sweetheart? You sure do look down right gorgeous in this one." He showed her a picture of her half naked form with her face exposed.

"Definitely not that one."

"Don't worry. Those other assholes won't be seeing anything." He put his camera to the side and got in her space again. He worked his coat to the side and unzipped his pants. "You're my lovely little helper after all." He couldn't help but be possessive.

In one swift motion, something probed at her entrance, sliding over her wet folds back and forth. Her hips angled, hungry for his cock that stroked over her clit. She bit back a needy moan. Danny noticed.

He merciless shoved his cock into her cunt, the stretch almost unbearable as he fully filled her. It was in one quick and fluid motion that had her gasping and fumbling against the wall. A shock ran up her spine, bone chilling. She wasn't ready for the full force of his penetration. He only gave her a few needed seconds before pumping in and out.

The sweet friction of his member grated against her tight walls. She was still too dry for him, and tears leaked from her eyes at every harsh thrust that filled her fully. There was a pleasure in the pain, though, and every snap of his hips slowly brought pleasure. It took time before she was fully lubricated for him. The lack of foreplay took a heavy toll -- her legs threatened to give out beneath her.

Her bra was shoved out of the way from her bouncing breast. His thumb and index finger rubbed her nipple. A shiver ran down her spine, and a pathetic moan escaped her chapped lips in response to his rough teasing. In the heat of the moment, from getting pounded into the moldy wall, her sweat stained shirt was lifted from her shoulders, along with her pesky bra. A bruising grip was on her hips, another squeezed her breast in a painful manner. She was fully naked now, fucking a serial killer in a building that could collapse at any moment. The possibility turned her on even more.

She should feel repulsed. She should hate this -- every defiling moment of this scandalous act. The Ghostface was a serial killer. Correction: Danny Johnson was a serial killer. He murdered innocent people, and even threatened to murder her. He blackmailed her into doing this. She didn't even know what the fuck he looked like.

It amazed her how he could keep an even tone as he fucked her. "You enjoying yourself, sweetheart?" _No,_ she wanted to say. She wasn't enjoying this one bit. But of course, she was only lying to herself. He'd be able to see right through her lies.

Cold flushed over her hot skin, a hand removed from her breast and tangled itself into her hair. He yanked her head back.

"I wanna hear that pretty voice of yours. Don't make say it again."

She couldn't form comprehensive words. "Gho- Danny." Why did she say his real name? She didn't know if that was a mistake or not, especially of how he reacted earlier. In her mind, it was a comping mechanism. Perhaps calling him by his actually name will humanize him instead of only going by the mask?

She didn't know if that grunt from him was of approval or anger, but the hand holding her hair back was removed. Instead, it snuggly wrapped around her delicate throat and constricted. The bruises from before stung, but he didn't squeeze enough to cause absolute harm. She could still breath -- barely.

Any words he said didn't make it pass her ears. Her heart thumped quickly against her ribs, and that was all she could hear in that moment. Thump, thump, thump. The swift noise of flowing blood. Dry gasps lodged in her closed throat -- wheezing. In that moment, her legs actually did began to give out.

He released his hold, and she sputtered as she gasped for oxygen. It was in that exact timing where he grabbed her hips with both hands -- he forcefully stealthed his long cock all the way down to the base. And once again, the air was knocked from her strained lungs. Public hair tickled her ass where his hips met flushed against hers. He began his rhythmic motion once more, in and out. Unlike before, he pierced her completely, too deep for her to handle at such a fast rate.

Fingers pressed bruises into her flesh; flesh slapped against flesh until blood shot red. She arched her back, meeting every thrust with her own twisted hunger. The feeling was amazing, the build up in her core was almost a foreign ache.

How long as it been since she's last got laid? This would be her first in the entity's realm, but how long has she been here? There was no telling. Of course, she's had the occasional hookup in college, but her last time was a couple months back. She didn't particularly care for sex, per sue, but the act was a great stress reliever. And boy, hasn't she been stressed lately.

It was like his cock was made for her. He was perfectly curved, filling the inside of her quiet nicely. Every animalistic snap of his hips brought her closer to the high she was chasing.

A flash of something -- red pants, a feminine body. She didn't comprehend it was an actual person until eyes the size of saucers stared back. Meg peered from behind the door frame. Meg didn't know what the fuck was going on.

One, it looked like the killer was raping the new girl. Second, it looked like she was actually fucking enjoying it. What was Meg to do in this situation? She couldn't deny she didn't see the signs because she absolutely _did not._ It would explain a good deal, though.

(Y/n) mouth fell open in shock. With her guard down, a moan slipped past her lips. More ripped from her vocal cords as Danny kept hitting that certain bundle of nerves deep inside her -- almost on purpose. Scratch that because that's exactly what the bastard was doing.

"My dirty little slut," he said for good measures. "So eager and needy."

She came undone in that moment. Hot pleasure coursed through her blood stream. Her walls closed around his cock in bliss. Her feet curled uncomfortably in her sneakers, face pressed flat against the stratchy wall for extra support. He pounded out her climax. It took until after her orgasm that the signs of him closing in was almost up.

Meg stood there confused before she got the idea and bolted. Never before had any survivor hooked up with a killer, and she did not stick around to watch the first ever moment in enitity history.

How would the others react if they were to found out? Would she be casted out, abandoned? No, _no._ That wouldn't happen. She could say he raped her if it ever came down to it. Hopefully Meg will keep her mouth shut.

She felt nauseous at the shameless predicament.

His thrust became uneven, and was no longer in consistent rhythm. There was a moan, deep and distorted from his mask. He slammed into her, jamming her up the wall, and her feet lifted from the floor. Then something hot filled her. The warmth of his cum could be felt in her abdomen.

He was still in her as he asked. "You up for round two?"


End file.
